Sanity Clause
by Failure Turtle
Summary: All it takes is one bad day to reduce the sanest man alive to lunacy. Randy/Steph. One shot.


What happened to Randy Orton? He used to be such a nice boy. He was respectful. He was polite. He wanted to learn.

But now? Now he was the messenger of destruction. A dangerous psychopath. A lunatic. And he didn't care that he was potentially ruining the lives of two other innocent boys, drawn together by a common similarity. Randy thought of his genetics as a poison, as if that was what forced him to turn into this evil monster.

But he never used to take great pleasure in beating women and elderly legends of days gone by. His dubbed nicknames of the Legend Killer and the Lady Killer were his crown and scepter, and the WWE was his kingdom at war.

At times when Randy sat alone in his dark hotel room, he thought about his darkest secret. He thought about the object of his desire: Stephanie McMahon. Just the previous week, he had performed a vicious RKO on the Billion Dollar Princess.

If he truly desired her, how could he hurt her like that? Why did he want her?

_Her soft skin…_

The answer was simple: revenge.

Randy wasn't sure that he truly wanted Stephanie, but the monster inside of him surely did. He wasn't sure where Randy Orton ended and the monster began.

It all started with one bad day.

Randy remembered the euphoric feeling of winning his very first World Heavyweight Championship at a mere twenty-four years old. He was on top of the world and the WWE, almost literally. He remembered being hoisted on the shoulders of his teammates from Evolution. As Dave Batista held him up, Randy looked down and into the fatherly eyes of Triple H, his mentor of sorts in his young career.

And when Triple H's fatherly look turned into a look of hate and his thumb turned downwards, so did Randy's mind.

It was a symbol of sorts. From that point on, Randy's sanity drained to a level that kept getting lower and lower.

And now he was kicking his boss in the head for fun and blaming it on a mental disorder he claimed to have, a matter of convenience.

All it takes is one bad day.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Stephanie cried through the rag that she was biting down on, tied around her face. Her eyes looked up at Randy in fear, the exact reaction he wanted out of her.

"You're very pretty when you beg for mercy," Randy grinned, bending down in front of the youngest McMahon child, his blue eyes glittering in front of her brown ones. He gently kissed the top of her forehead, a motion that caused Stephanie to shudder.

"He'll kill you," Stephanie stated, closing her eyes tightly. She tried not to think of her husband. Corrupt at times, he still loved her, and she loved him. He always came through for her. He'd save her.

Randy chuckled, crossing his arms over his blue silk dress shirt clad chest. "Really, Steph? Is that really what you think will happen? Do you really think that Triple H is going to play the superhero and save his damsel in distress? You're his wife. You out of all people should remember his past."

Stephanie's eyes opened, welled with tears. She couldn't look at Randy. He was Satan to her, the embodiment of all evil.

"Remember when he drugged you up, Steph? Did you really love him then? You ended up just as corrupt and messed up as he was. And now you're trying to play the hero and heroine? Why him, Steph? Why Triple H? Why not a guy like me? I never wronged you until recently." He circled his prey like a shark. He trailed his long finger along her earlobe and then her jaw line, stopping with his extremity resting on her lips. He bent in closer, his lips millimeters away from connecting with her ear. "I still remember how you smelled when I attacked you."

He waited for a response, but she didn't give one. He could sense her trembling, but she was silent still.

The knock at the door pulled both of them out of their opposite trances. Randy grumbled, nearly foaming at the mouth. Stephanie looked at the door in hope.

Her hero had come after all.

But heroes don't exist in the WWE. Everyone is corrupt in their own way.

"If that's you Triple H, I swear to god I'll—"

"Settle down, Randy. I just brought you a sandwich," Ted DiBiase said as he opened the door and entered the room, closely followed by Cody Rhodes.

"Thanks," Randy said, ignoring the two men and turning his full attention back on his hostage.

Stephanie whimpered. She was hoping that her husband had come to rescue her, but he didn't. She was stuck in her own kind of padded cell with an insane superstar and his two lackeys.

Randy smiled. "Do you still love him, Steph?"


End file.
